


the beat of my heart (the fear of falling apart)

by titowrites



Series: interconnection: a series of people i love in love [1]
Category: Day6 (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 06:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titowrites/pseuds/titowrites
Summary: the pretty boy band au no one asked for





	the beat of my heart (the fear of falling apart)

**Author's Note:**

> junhui and wonpil are best friends somewhere in another universe and that’s the only reason this exists

Junhui could barely breathe. 

The dark hallway he stood in was just wide enough for him to stand in. The walls were covered in falling wallpaper, tiny roses could be seen amongst the scratched lining traveling up to the short ceiling. 

Sweat began to build on his neck, his leather jacket sticking to his arms with every stretch and roll of his shoulders. He was alone, but he can’t hear anything but the drum and bass, the noise pounding his head and filling his stomach. 

Junhui feels the make up against his eye clamp heavy as it struggles to stay put. He licks his lips and tastes the unfamiliar blandness of the lipstick someone forced onto him sometime earlier in the night. The taste grounds him, brings him back to the present and he makes himself inhale. The air is polluted with smoke, both the smell of cigarettes and pot fill his lungs and he has to pretend it’s okay for now. 

He curses Wonpil in his head for his ability to be be unaffected by the dirty air, he’s probably in the other room practically in the lap of the culprit. Junhui wouldn’t be surprised if he walked back in there to find him holding the burning stick in his hands. 

He shakes his head, willing himself another deep breath, coughing up slightly when it burns his lungs and scratches his throat. He wishes he could blame the smoke for the watering of his eyes, and the ache in his chest but he knows he can’t. His hands have been sweating long before he stepped away from the cooler room. The anxiety worms his way into his heart and it grows heavy. He feels himself lose the clarity of moments before, head high in the clouds of everything that could go wrong in the next few moments. 

“Hey.” 

Junhui blinks out of his clouded mind, turning to the source of the voice. 

It’s Wonpil, of course. Junhui can’t have three minutes of peace without the elder following and hovering. 

Wonpil takes a stop directly in front of him, and with the narrow hallway, he’s only left a couple inches of space between them. He smells Wonpil’s breath, and it’s the clearest smell his nose has smelled all night. The crisp mint scent has the same affect of swallowing his lipstick, and he’s grounded again. 

“Are you okay?” Wonpil asks, and his voice is clear of any teasing. Junhui huffs a breath and Wonpil still doesn’t lose the genuine look of curiosity in his eyes. He doesn’t even let himself look concerned until Junhui let’s him know there’s something to be concerned about and Jun is reminded again how much of a better person Wonpil is than him. 

Weeks before tonight, Wonpil would turn to him with terror in his eyes and grip his arm. He’d whine and cry a little with his face buried in his chest. Junhui would laugh and hug him back and Wonpil would cry harder. Jun would hold him until it passes and tease him until Wonpil was laughing into his chest, pinching his side with no strength. Wonpil has been worried about tonight since the day they found out tonight was happening at all, he spent weeks with dread in his bones and his lip bitten until it bled. He would call Junhui at all hours of the day to remind him again what it was they had to get done before the date. Junhui took it all in stride, but he still poked and giggled at Wonpil’s whines. 

Now though, with Wonpil stood in front of him in his soft pale sweater and someone else’s black coat draped on his shoulders, the worry was long gone from his eyes. His eyes, darkened with undamaged eye liner, wide and warm. His shoulders were drawn back and he looked as strong as ever. Even with being a head shorter than Junhui, it felt like he was being looked down upon with how confident he stood. 

“Jun.” 

Junhui met his eyes and could now see the worry beginning to spill into them. Junhui offered him a smile that felt too stiff and Wonpil grabbed hold of his hand. 

“Are you freaking out right now?” Wonpil let their hands hang loose, lazily intertwining them and speaking as if questioning the weather and not like Junhui was seconds away from crying from the nerves stinging his body. 

“Um.” Jun tried, but his throat was so dry he couldn’t hear himself over the booming bass still shaking the building. He cleared it and Wonpil tilted just a bit closer in the absence of space between them. “Yea, a little.” 

Wonpil nodded absentmindedly, and pursed his lips thoughtfully. He looked back up to meet his eyes with an answer in his eyes. “Do you want a hug?” 

Jun let out a surprised laugh, a bit of spit falling onto Wonpil undoubtedly but he ignored it. He threw his head back but if anything it caused the tears in his eyes to build and he nodded as his throat closed up again. 

Immediately he feels arms wrap around his waist, and a head bury it self in his neck. The strength of the hug is enough to stop the already short of breaths he was taking, but he ignores that and throws his own arms around Wonpil’s shoulders. 

Junhui is bigger, both in size and in strength. He never gave up dancing even after the band formed, and Wonpil only ever likes to run so his arms are still scrawny and weak. Junhui is thin and falls over if there’s a strong gust of wind (according to Mingyu) but he’ll always have dance. He carries the heavier equipment in because Wonpil whines about it for hours if he has to. They’re both weaklings compared to their friends (except maybe Jae) but it’s not a secret that Junhui is much more capable. 

But there’s something about Wonpil’s hugs. He hugs with his whole body, trapping you in his arms and pressing his face close. Junhui hugs are lazy, an arm around your shoulder or his body hanging off of yours hardly grabbing any part of you at all. Wonpil doesn’t do that, refuses to let you go until he’s completely surrounded you for as long as he sees fit. 

And for now, Junhui doesn’t see a reason to complain. He usually doesn’t, but he’ll always poke and force his way out of them for the pout Wonpil gives so he can tease and call him cute for that too. But this time he feels completely comfortable and safe in his hyung’s arms. He begins to feel the stress leave his bones, and gains feeling back into his legs. 

They stay there for far longer than Junhui can comprehend, but the music has gotten softer, the drumming has stopped and only a soft melody can be heard. 

Junhui pulls away first, feels exhausted now that the panic has left him. 

Wonpil doesn’t let him get far, once Junhui has leaned back onto the wall behind him follows him so he’s leaning against his chest. 

“Are you okay now, Jun-ah?” He asks cutely. 

Junhui chuckles and coos. “Yes, hyung. I’m okay.” 

Wonpil grins his most beautiful full smile and steps up to kiss his cheek. “Good.” 

Junhui smiles at the attention and they stay like that wrapped around each other a little longer, only breaking apart when Jihyo comes out to find them. She eyes them for a moment, making sure they’re both okay, getting a nod from Wonpil that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jun. Once she decides they’re both not on the verge of panicking she starts yelling at them to hurry up or else she’ll come back out with one of her drum sticks. 

Wonpil cries out before she can go into detail what she’ll do with them and chases after her until she leaves. 

Wonpil, giggling and about to cross the threshold looks back at Junhui. 

“You ready?” 

Jun watches him for a moment, his best friend and band mate. He looks gorgeous under the dim lights, almost out of place with his cute sweater and doe eyes. Probably not the first place you’d think to find Kim Wonpil. A dirty hallway in a darkly lit nightclub in the messy part of town.  


Wonpil coos over the kitten that lives outside their rehearsal studio and likes to hold hands with anyone who lets him when he gets scared. But the jacket he’s wearing belongs to guy he won’t let fuck him and the smoke in the room doesn’t ever irritate him and the raunchier lyrics Jun moans into the mic later are from the ratty notebook Wonpil won’t get rid of. 

Wonpil is stood there with all of who he is and he’s asking Junhui if he’s ready. Junhui just might be if he can do it with Wonpil. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” And Junhui walks forward to the outstretched hand reaching for him but he ignores it. He tosses an arm around his hyung’s shoulders and pushes past into the room to wait for their set. 

Junhui just might be in love with Wonpil, too.


End file.
